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Tobi Alfier writes poetry, flash-fiction, and the odd blog. Her poems have appeared in The Chaffin Journal, Chiron Review, Cholla Needles, Coe Review, Gargoyle, Hawai’i Pacific Review, Nerve Cowboy, Permafrost, The Los Angeles Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, Suisun Valley Review, Town Creek Poetry, and other print and online journals.
Lavender, Rosemary, and Violet
The lucid whisper of the low morning tide,
she stares and inhales deeply the salty air
that rids her mind of every bad beginning.
He’d told her nothing was as alone
as the human heart and she had to agree.
She finds his words faithworthy,
what love summoned up and broke,
how could he have known the night
would end with solitude he thought
was his alone. A sage he was,
that man. In her mind’s eye she reinvents
him as a fugitive of love. A smuggler
who sends flower-christened drinks
to poorly-looking women
in flower-christened dresses,
lavender, rosemary—charming names
for sad women like she knew she was.
Lavender, Rosemary, and Violet
The lucid whisper of the low morning tide,
she stares and inhales deeply the salty air
that rids her mind of every bad beginning.
He’d told her nothing was as alone
as the human heart and she had to agree.
She finds his words faithworthy,
what love summoned up and broke,
how could he have known the night
would end with solitude he thought
was his alone. A sage he was,
that man. In her mind’s eye she reinvents
him as a fugitive of love. A smuggler
who sends flower-christened drinks
to poorly-looking women
in flower-christened dresses,
lavender, rosemary—charming names
for sad women like she knew she was.
